There she is.

It's muggy-muggy today!

Reminds me of Ayaka's English Lessons, when she teaches Rika Ishikawa how to say it's a very humid day. We spent weeks once walking around imitating her "It's very muggy muggy!" It was cute.

Well it's humid. I went from wishing it wasn't -27 to wishing it wasn't +27. Why can't it just be 20 all year around? But with seasons. Please?

I got out all the fans and to think 2 nights ago I turned on the electric blanket because the sheets were so cold. I went out and got a pizza for dinner since the house is an oven anyway. I'm not cooking. I don't feel like barbecueing. I don't feel like defrosting anything big either. I'm surrounded by food here.

I actually feel really self destructive these days. It's supposed to be part of the 'process'. I don't want to be part of the process. I want to be away from the process and back to being me again.

Bless my proactive Jake, he's always trying to keep me on track. He makes me eat (did I mention I don't eat sometimes? I'll make sure everyone else does, and I'll skip seven meals and almost pass out in the shower because I don't pay attention. That went over really well, let me tell you). He makes me go to the dumb physical therapy. He takes me to the counselor. I think I would have ditched all of it by now. A week of nothing but appointments and running around and it's too fast for me. I need time to process things. He likes them dealt with and gone so happy life resumes. He's desperate for me to be happy, and not scared. Oh God, is that not the greatest thing in the world?

He got my spinning wheel out and put it in the front hall near the living room. And put all my fiber in a big basket beside it. For when the sling is gone and I feel like spinning.

He has rounded up the most motley bunch of babysitters, chauffeurs and entertainment a girl could ever wish for. Again, I love everyone but I'm such an introvert. I want to sleep. He figures if I sleep too much I will withdraw. He gets despondent when I withdraw and yet I need it so bad. I won't withdraw from him, from the kids, just from the rest of the world.

Maybe he'll read this. I can't even explain how I feel but I'm done with all this 'healing'. I'd like to wallow instead. Just for a bit.

And post-traumatic stress is a bitch. A really nasty bitch. When I see someone move out of the corner of my eye I jump fifty feet. I was running the bath for the kids last night and I turned off the water 4 times to listen. To listen for what? The kids were in the bathroom, I locked the door behind us. Jake was downstairs. Dumb. Really dumb.

I think I found myself today. That or the crazy girl came back from the circus.

Okay, meet the rest of my family.

Wednesdays sometimes bring two posts, maybe three if you missed a few days.

It's out! The new Ghost Rider trailer if you've been patiently waiting for it as long as I have.

And now some blog business. Try to keep up, or at least pretend to. I won't tell.

If you've been with me for a while you know that Trey's name isn't really Trey. Bunny is my 5 yr old son and Birdie is my 6 yr old daughter. Right, except those were nicknames. Of course. Trey was C, who got his nickname when he got glasses and grew a beard and morphed into Trey Anastasio, from Phish, one of my favorite jam bands and the only music that would ever put Henry (bunny) to sleep.

So C is Cole. If you ever meet him and he shows you pictures of his beautiful blonde kids, and they look like twins but they're not, run. He is charming, but Just go.

Birdie is Ruth. Bunny is Henry. Ruth and Henry are my life and they are the two best things to ever come out of this mess that is my life. And I hated going back and changing names when I was done writing. Everyone else on the internet uses real names, for cryin' out loud. Everyone I know is tuning in to this like a soap opera anyhow.

Bridget and Jacob are our real names, but that was already shared info. You'll meet my friends as we go. Hi. Meet my crazy universe. Let's continue.

One-man show.

Today's solitary culinary karaoke is brought to you by James Blunt.

No, he wasn't singing Beautiful. But that's funny because that's what everyone would assume. Oh internet, you know us too well sometimes.

Jake was singing Wisemen. And cooking grilled cheese and french fries. And mixing up the words excruciatingly.

It's not:

Look who's in love now,
It's on me. It's on me.
Those three Wise Men,
They've got a city by the sea.

it's:

Look who's alone now,
It's not me. It's not me.
Those three Wise Men,
They've got a semi by the sea.

Me? No, I won't correct him, I just take movies of him singing and threaten to post them on the internet. Some Youtubage extortion in exchange for a plate of food? I tried.

James Blunt? I know. I'm just happy he finally stopped playing Xavier Rudd. While Xav is great and all it became a steady diet over the weekend and I can't pull CDs off the pile with one hand. The stack is too tall and all the good ones seem to be at the bottom. I'm at the mercy of a madman here. An impossibly cute madman who really loves cheesy love songs to go with a cheesy dinner.

My evil plot is to get him to sing along to any of my Switchfoot CDs because that would be way neat-o.

Got to ask yourself the question,
Where are you now?

How we met, or the longest post in the universe.

This took a long time to write out. How to give people just enough of an idea of how we met without writing down every single detail. Well, here's most of it. Take it or leave it. Go have a nap in the middle of it. It's very long and very difficult but maybe it explains a lot. Or not.

The summer of 1997 I was 26 years old. I had a car, a husband of 4 years and a cat, a nice big flat near the beach and a bunch of cool friends, friends since I was about 7, friends whose parents had cottages up and down the east coast. Some on lakes, some on the beach. I worked days at a bank, Trey worked nights and weekends. Hey, we never saw each other but we were hard workers, saving for a house, a family, everything we ever wanted. I wasn't going to sit home on the long weekends and miss out. But I wasn't dumb either. I stayed with my girfriends (in groups no less) and rarely drank, and never was alone with a guy who wasn't Trey.

Not like I could. No one messed with his wife. Trey was the badass of the group. I was the barbie doll. Or something, I'm trying to give you the visual. Think very low maintenance barbie. Please? Tomboy Barbie.

So one weekend I drove up to the beach late. I was working overtime and I was so tired. But I wanted to get there and beat the Saturday traffic. I arrived at my friends' cottage around 9:30. The party was in full swing, there were so many people I didn't know. I grabbed a vodka cooler that was passed out to me and I said my hellos. The cooler hit a bit harder than I expected so I went down to the water, to the hammock that I loved to hang out in.

There was a guy already sitting in it. Rocking slowly. Holding a beer. It was very dark. I asked him if I could have a turn in the hammock because I had just driven out from the city and I was zonked.

He said he really didn't want to go back up to the house but he would make room if I wanted to share it.

I rolled my eyes to no avail, since it was dark and told the guy that I wasn't interested. Because, oh my god I was so tired. Just get out.

He laughed and asked me what wasn't I interested in.

Someone finally flicked on the patio lights right then. They were strung all the way around the property.

My god, what a good-looking man. He sat there grinning at me, enjoying his beer and his peace and quiet. I swayed a bit on my feet and he jumped up and took my arm and helped me crawl into the hammock. After a couple of minutes of trying to sit properly together he gave up and put his arm around me. He was about 5 inches from my face, and cute as he was, I was annoyed and I tried to push him out, I really didn't feel good and I was married. He said he really was harmless and that I looked really pale. I slurred something to the effect that I have a much-sought-after alabaster Irish complexion and then I promptly passed out cold.

The next morning I woke up with a killer headache. I was still in the hammock, still in the arms of this guy, who was asleep with his face buried in my neck, our arms wrapped around each other. His jacket was over me. I didn't really remember him. I think I flipped out right around then. My friends were calling out and running down the path.

I fell out of the hammock and then, so did he. Everyone was yelling. They thought I had been kidnapped. They found out one of the guys had put roofies in a bunch of the coolers the girls had. He admitted it after they left out of guilt. Then when they were trying to round up and pour out all the opened bottles no one could find me. They couldn't see me in the hammock because of the man and his coat.

Okay, this is looking good. Trey is on his way, everyone is flipping out.

We finally calmed down. Jacob introduced himself. He was the older brother of one of the girls, who had dragged him with her for a designated driver but then she didn't want to leave after all so he was hanging out, avoiding the party because he's not really a partier-type. When I stumbled down to the water he thought I was very very drunk and he was going to suggest I cool off and sit down but then I passed out and he didn't want to leave me alone in case I drowned or an equally drunk guy found me and raped me or something.

I wanted to go to the emergency room, drugs really freak me out and I couldn't really wake up. I sat back down. I wanted to wait for Trey though. Jacob put his coat back around my shoulders and sat with his arm around me for support. Everyone else was busy planning to kill the guy who had brought the drugs without getting the police involved. Why I will never know.

Trey finally arrived and at first he thought Jacob had given me drugs. Once he established that Jacob was looking out for me he apologized and then he took me back home. I think I slept the rest of that long weekend. I slept in Jacob's coat.

Friday morning Jacob called the flat. His younger sister gave him my number. He wanted to see how I was doing, and also could he get his coat back? It was a favorite. He asked if I would meet him at a coffee shop near the university that weekend. Sure, he had to have his coat.

When I got there he had on that grin again. He bought me a coffee and I gave him his coat and I formally introduced myself. We talked about what we both did, and to my surprise Jacob told me he was starting school again, taking his masters in divinity. Okay Bridget, good move then to pass out in the arms of a potential minister. I apologized for my behavior the night of the party and he reminded me I had been drugged and there was nothing to apologize for.

Then he said he really wished I wasn't married.

Oh man, did he have to say that? I briefly wished I wasn't too. Honestly I did. But I started to gather up my coat and bag to leave. He stood up and grabbed my hand, and he said he was sorry he said that but he hadn't stopped thinking about me all week but that he could respect my circumstances. I told him he had to stop right there, I wasn't interested in him, I was married. For a long time, and besides, we were trying to start a family.

Then he asked if he could just be my friend. We had the same friends in common, we were the same age and we shared some sort of connection he couldn't articulate. He was completely right. I said he couldn't do it and that if he was just going to lust after me then forget it. My husband would kill him. He laughed again. Oh what a great laugh. He said he could do it and that God had brought me into his life. I reminded him God brought him into my life and he said we were even.

I didn't see him again for almost a year. He didn't call, out of respect or being busy and I didn't know his number. Life went on. I thought about him every now and then, wondering how such a cute guy could want to be a minister. Sometimes I thought that's why he was so cute-God rewards people who believe in Him by making them very good looking.

Early in December I attended a cocktail reception at a gallery. I was newly pregnant, very newly pregnant, sick as a dog and trying to put on a face for an hour or so to support my friend's show. I went outside on the balcony at the gallery and tried to quell the nausea. Someone stuck a bottled water under my nose.

Care for a drink? Still sealed?

I knew that voice. I think the grin split my face in half before my eyes made it to his face. It was Jacob.

Hi Bridget. His eyes twinkled. Oh dear god. I took the water and opened it and drank some. Then I said Hi Jacob. Nice to see you again.

We grinned. Deja vu, I wavered again. Dizzy. Nauseous.

Then he asked me if I was okay. We laughed and I said no, but this time being sick was a happy occasion. I was pregnant! He gave me a very nice proper hug and said congratulations. I asked him how his studies were going and we chatted for a couple of hours. I finally left and he walked me to my car and I remember holding his arm so I didn't wipe out on the ice. He said he hoped he'd see me before another year passed because so much would change for me in the next year. I asked if he was going to the annual Christmas party thrown by friends who do a huge huge party. He said he was, so I said we would see him then.

The party never took place. Instead the next time I saw Jacob was at the hospital. My best friend stopped taking her insulin. She fell into a diabetic coma and died. I drove for an hour through a blizzard to get to the hospital and I didn't make it in time to say goodbye. Christmas was a week away. She was supposed to be at my baby's birth next summer. I was so angry. I never saw it coming. She had stopped taking her insulin.

I spent the night sitting in the family room with Jacob. I couldn't leave, I wasn't in any condition to drive and the roads were scary anyway. Our other friends drifted away out of shock, grief. A group went down to the chapel. I thought Jacob would go but he sat back and put his arm around me and didn't say a word. I didn't say a word. We sat there and stared at the wall for hours. I didn't cry, I just sat. He somehow just knew not to talk. When the sun came up I asked him if he would pray with me. If he would lead, because I wanted it out loud.

He said the most beautiful prayer that day. I can't remember a word of it.

And after that he stepped in and became a best friend. Not to replace the one I lost or anything, but it just happened. Because God put him here to watch over me. And he has.

Touch.

Okay so it's a blog genre by itself, as it turns out. Relationships. Ben showed me an article on "Getting the most of your blogging". He's surprised I don't blog about the kids much. Too many bad days spread across long cold indoor winters where I didn't quite emerge the same girl I started out as. The Shining, folks. Being stuck inside does things to people and by the end of the winter I wasn't so nice and I didn't feel like writing an endless stream of how I felt because the internet isn't really such a private place and someday my kids might find out that some days I wished I was far far away from here. That's not so fair, is it? They'll know it's me, I had this nickname before they were born. So I chose to write about me and my life interacting with everyone in it instead. The men in my life. How hard I love, and why.

So not a mommy-blog, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

But mostly when I'm in pain or stressed out I write so honestly I wish I would just shut the hell up and not spill my guts. Usually I need to get it out more than I need to keep it in for my sanity's sake. So wow, yes, Bridget unabridged. Unapologetic.


***

Something I've been noticing lately. Touch. Affection. Needing it like air.

Touch specifically. Jacob's touch. He's an affectionate guy. Well, he's got his 'professional affection' (so I call it), with handshaking, light cheek kisses and the occasional warm hug. But with me, he's a seriously affectionate man. He's always hugging me, holding me, holding my hand. Kissing me. Lips, nose, forehead. Shoulder. He strokes my hair. Absently even. Like he has no idea. It's like he's confirming that I am indeed here with him, always in total contact. That's exactly what it is. He holds my face when we're in close. He traces my eyelashes, my bottom lip that he loves to run his thumb across. He does that and I am on the floor. I love that one thing in particular. He trails his fingers up my leg at the dinner table even.

He totally can't get enough of me. Ditto that. It's not sick. Everyone is jealous. I think.

I'm terrible for touching people all the time. Trey used to say he wasn't a monkey, leave him alone. I am always grabbing the kids when they go by and stealing hugs and kisses. I hug my friends. Now I have a willing victim that is mine all mine. I can run my hands through his hair, I can trace his ears, his jaw, his stomach muscles and he never complains ever. I think he loves it. He sleeps with his arms locked around me. I can't move when I sleep, my torso is too sore. He found a comfortable way to put his arms and it feels so good, it takes away the pain while I sleep. And when I open my eyes he's still there. Right in my face.

Okay it is sick isn't it? Most people beg off-too hot, gotta sleep now, go away. We don't care. That first night when he didn't leave we came full circle with the sleeping wrapped around each other business because that was how we met.

Yes I totally did just say that.

But is it okay if I mention we were fully clothed? No? Too bad. I'll tell the rest tomorrow. I can't feel my arm anymore.

Pickles

Last night Jake and bunny were sitting out in the backyard on the step sharing a sandwich. Jake only made it back a few moments before bedtime and he always takes some time to give both kids his separate, undivided attention each day. He had a ham sandwich with pickles, and when bunny found out he begged Jake just to give up the pickles and let bunny eat them all. Jake complied and they enjoyed their time.

When they came back in Jake remarked again how surprised he is that bunny loves spicy things. He says that every time. We didn't think bunny would ever tolerate spicy foods.

It is a wonder, for when bunny was born, he had what the doctors all said was colic. He cried all the time. I knew it wasn't colic, colic doesn't affect a baby every minute of the day. When he was born Trey was carrying on with a coworker. He came home late, or not at all. I had post partum depression. I was stressed out. I had an almost two year old and a one month old baby and a wayward husband and I thought that was the end of the world. It was all I could do just to get through each single day.

One night I thought I couldn't make it at all. Bunny had been crying for probably 3 days straight, when he was awake. When he was asleep I tried to run around doing laundry, cleaning, cooking, anything because when he was awake all I did was rock him and try to keep birdie happy. I hadn't slept in over a week and I was half out of my mind. I called Trey and told him I needed him to come home on time after work, that I couldn't do it. He hung up on me.

I sat down on the floor in the hallway with both kids and cried. We were all crying. Then there was a knock at the door. It was Jacob, stopping by to say hello on his way home. He loved to stop in and see us and play with the kids when he had time. He opened the door and looked at us. I was standing there with a baby in each arm and tears running down my face and I couldn't even talk.

He came right in, got birdie bathed and down for the night and walked around with bunny lying full out on his forearm while he rubbed his back. He called a friend and had him drop off take out and diapers. He did laundry. He made another appointment for the next day at the doctors for bunny and then he held us both until we fell asleep.

I got up around 3 am when bunny woke up to be fed. I could hear Jake quietly arguing on the phone. Which meant Trey didn't come home at all.

I came out into the living room with bunny to fed him and change him just in time to hear Jacob say You have everything in the world right here. I would kill for this to be my family, for Bridget to be my wife and you're throwing it all away. You have everything, man.

Then he turned around and saw me.

He hung up the phone. And he came over and took the baby and told me to go back to sleep. He would feed bunny and put him back down, and he told me we were everything and all I had to do was say the word and we could go with him.

Oh my fucking God, I was so stubborn then.

Jacob went with us to the pediatrician the next morning and bunny started taking medication for reflux and he stopped crying at last. I pulled myself together, determined to get through this life that I had made. I was going to be more than responsible and become a martyr to make up for the absence of my husband. I told Jake I was okay and it was just a really long week and things weren't so bad.

I stood there and shook and lied through my teeth to him and he knew it. He gave me a bitter smile and said I didn't have to live like this. He begged me not to live like this. He put his arms around me and the baby and held us and I almost wavered. Almost. No one hugs me like that. Just Jacob. I had known him for 4 years by then.

He left but that was the beginning of our friendship moving into something stronger, because he became my protector. And we had that stupid conversation probably twice more before I finally did leave Trey.

It's a strange life when pickles can evoke such bittersweet memories.

Tagged.

First off, for Potor, the requisite spam love,

Rose-colored pressed meat
I like to slice you thinly
spam burgers are yum!
 
and for Ms. D, the ever deviating wonder, a tag I almost missed,

1) What's your favourite colour?

-Green, all shades but moreso the paler ones like celery, mint, celadon. There's something calming and restful and fresh about green. It also symbolizes spring and new beginnings to me.

2) Why do you do what you do? Why are you working on what you want to become?

-I'm a writer/stay at home mom. I'm hoping to give my kids a good foothold in being independent thinkers and having high self-esteem so I have spent the last two years homeschooling them. When they go to school this fall I can devote a little more attention to writing. I write because I am called to write. It's a feeling. I have to.

3) What do you want me to go away knowing about you?

-That I'm just like you. I have joys and fears and bad days and good days and I fuck up and grow up and make mistakes. That I'm not a doll. That I get tired of being evaluated based on my looks. I get tired of being looked at.

4) What is your biggest fear?

-Besides heights? Being alone. Having absolutely no one at that last hour when you need someone the most.

5) Do you always tell the truth no matter what the cost?

-No. Some truths only serve to hurt so what's the point? If it won't change the circumstances then I don't bother. But you know something? Thinking back if I had admitted to myself that I really really liked Jake and spent so much time wishing he was in Trey's place would I be in this mess? Probably, for I try to avoid regret and believe so much in things happening for a greater purpose.

This is way too deep for a Saturday morning. From spam to life's decisions, the tags are done and I love tags.

Jacob has a wedding today. He was ironing his shirt this morning, for he does indeed dress up for weddings. He wears a suit and a tie even. Oh the hotness. I can't even stand it. He shaved his face. Kill me now. That alone gives me renewed energy to attempt to jump him. We're very creative these days based on the fact that I'm wrecked.

Okay, too much information.

Byebye. Have a great weekend.

Happy overall.

Since the parade of ups and downs never ends let me say this-I love the moments when Jacob kisses my forehead, looks back at me just when I need him to to make sure I'm okay and I love that when I call him in the middle of the day to tell him I love him he sighs and smiles and I can hear it right through the phone. And the kids screaming for him all through the house when he comes back at dinner time. Jake! Jake is home! Jake! It's glorious. And it totally offsets all the other bullshit we're going through. All of it. He was worth it and oddly enough I would go through all of it again because I love him and I just wish I would have admitted there was something between us back in 1997 when we met and I couldn't stop thinking about him...for almost 10 years straight.

Yup. Love is grand.

But right now I have lilacs on my table from a walk with the kids with Ben, and he actually did leave some cake for us for later. Ben has gone for the day, off to chase women instead of babysitting them and Jake and I are going to sit on the porch tonight and sip some wine and do nothing except he promised to read to me a little. I love listening to him read aloud. We're working our way through my Hemingway collection beginning with A Moveable Feast and it sounds so beautiful when read by a male voice. Jake's voice.

TGIF.

    When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.
    ~Ernest Hemingway

Blog, meet Ben.

No more drugs. It's better to feel the pain and stop pushing myself than to feel okay and overdo it and wind up with tears streaming down my face over something stupid like trying to hang up a shirt that fell off the hanger. Try that with one hand. Yeah. No personality changes, just massive amounts of frustration. Between that and the overwhelming urges to hang off the gingerbread at the peak of the roof in my dreams I chose to put away the painkillers for now.

Ben is here today hanging out (playing bodyguard) while Jake works. He's got a 4 day weekend from his cubicle at the insurance company and so he's freaking me out by telling my kids about all the hot girls he met last weekend. He's so inappropriate I can't stop laughing and it hurts so much but it's too funny to stop. I can't even stand it. My son, who is four, just told Tucker, I mean Ben, that he knows what boobies are. Mommy even has two. So there! Ben points out that Mommy has nice boobies.

Oh geez. Stop making me laugh. It hurts like hell.

My mom left this morning. She's the primary caregiver for my grandmother so she didn't want to be gone long and I have a ton of support here just from Jake, from friends, from the women's group at church who filled my deep freeze yesterday with enough food to feed Bridget's army. I think she just wanted to hug me and see for herself what condition I was in. My house has revolving doors.

And new locks. Jacob changed all the locks himself but it's not good enough. Apparently Trey is absolutely grief-stricken that he laid a hand on me. He was drunk and crazed and I'm still afraid of him and he wants to talk to me so he can apologize and make sure I'm okay. He's not allowed anywhere near me. The worst part of this is the knowledge that when he came into the house I was washing dishes, which puts me in a position where I hear nothing-running water takes away all other sounds. He knows this. I always used to wait and do it at 9 pm, once the kids are asleep because otherwise I can't hear them call. He knows this better than anyone. And he arrived at 9 pm, and I was supposed to be alone but Jacob had come by to collect his books and I had asked him to stay. And I didn't know Trey was in the house until he grabbed me.

So I have babysitters like Ben. Ben who regularly propositions me and calls me princess milf. Which Jacob tolerates only because he doesn't want to seem square. It was Ben who had the task to pick up Trey from downtown and take him back to the house where he's staying. Ben made sure there was no alcohol in that house and then ripped a strip off Trey and told him if he ever touched anyone in anger ever again BEN would kill him and that he is very lucky that Ben wasn't there too that night and that everyone will be supporting me for the next several weeks and Trey had better get his shit together. I think I stopped listening to him there. I think I pissed him off. I'm pissed off, Ben.

And now he just asked if I wanted cake because he isn't planning to save any for preacher boy. I love my friends. Really I do. Even the weird ones.

Too high to think of titles

Wow, the lucidity with which I wrote yesterday was way more than I expected to see this morning.

My mind is still addled with the lovely magnificent drugs, and I can see why people take them recreationally, because if they're this orgasmic when I'm all broken up physically, just imagine how amazing I would feel on drugs when I'm completely healed. I'm kidding.

I have blessings to count today. I got to see my own arm bending freakishly the other way, which is the highlight really. I can now claim abuse, which means the divorce will happen much faster than before, and Jake and the kids are safe. Trey's friends are supporting him without letting him off the hook. And I am not alone as I thought I was.

But then again, this is Bridget your autopilot talking. Not sure how Bridget the real girl feels because I can't find her. I think she ran away to join the circus because of her bendy arm. That's good because I don't think she's really doing so hot.